Jokull Askeli, 18
In the dim corridors of the orphanage at the edge of Cineredge City, Jokull crept through the night, over the creaking floorboards, footsteps light as an assassin. He paused briefly to groan, as he nursed a black eye, a bruise on his cheek, and finally a cracked rib. The small, pale boy continued, slowly turning the doorknob to the sleeping dorm, and pushed his way inside.
In the almost pitch-black room, the sounds of hushed snoring filled his ears. A sly smile adorned his face as he began dousing the dorm floor with oil. He pulled a lighter out from his pocket that, he'd bought from a man down an alley, behind the orphanage. Then, he started lighting old scrunched-up balls of newspapers on fire, and smoke soon filled the room and choked his lungs as he tossed them on the floor. Taking one last glimpse of the room, he pulled the door shut behind him and disappeared into the shadows.
But the building soon lit up in red and orange, a glorious display, and the doomed screams followed.
Day Two of Training
08:00 hours
The Eighteen-year-old bursts into consciousness in the bed of his apartment. His face is dripping with sweat as if he's been sleeping inside a boiler. The boy wipes the sweat off of his face, then, after a groan, he kicks his covers off and proceeds to his en-suite. In the white bathroom, Jokull's cold, crystal eyes are staring back at him from the mirror. He averts his gaze in a flash. Is that really a monster staring back at me? Only a monster could have those uncaring eyes after re-living that night of the fire at West Cineredge Orphanage.
Jokull hastily slips into the shower; after he has finished, he tugs on his black training outfit, which feels much like his tight leather motorcycle outfit. The boy from Six then heads out into the dining room for breakfast before making his way to training with the other tributes. Today is the day for Jokull to commence his master plan.
In the corner of his eye, across the training room, he spots Zora creating a concoction in the plant section. They exchange a glance and then Jokull diverts to the weapons section. Jokull calmly takes a seat on a metal crate in front of the weapons. His eyes follow the newly formed alliance of the boy from Fourteen and the boy from Eight; one tall and lean but with an unbreakable focus, and the other short, and devious, putting Jokull in mind of a little troll in a children's story that enjoys tormenting passing travellers.
The pair of them are chatting amongst themselves almost non-stop, so much so that they don't even notice the saboteur from Six sitting in front of them.
Jokull pulls out a bag of chips, which he snagged from the canteen, and nonchalantly begins munching on them. The pair stop dead in front of him, and the taller one eyes him up and down with his dark eyes.
Jokull swallows down a chip and raises his head to meet their eyes. "Got room for one more in your little crew?"
"And who might you be?" The boy from Fourteen smirks jovially.
"Name's Jokull. Jokull Askeli."
"That's fascinating but what makes you think we'd have any need of you?" The Eight boy shoots back, growing impatient.
"That depends on what you need," Jokull retorts with a cool smirk.
The boy from Eight lets out a disgruntled groan and rolls his eyes. "Urgh, why are we wasting our time with this guy, just ignore him-"
"Not so fast," his larger ally holds his hand up to cut them off, keeping his eyes trained on Jokull.
"Glad to see your little sidekick doesn't speak for you," Jokull says, which earns a furious stare from the Eight tribute.
Then, the Fourteen boy steps closer to the Six boy. "We're hoping to hit the big game." His eyes dart momentarily in the direction of the careers, and Jokull notices his fist clench ever so slightly. "But for that, I need people with a skill set," he says, then he turns to his ally. "Now, Ren here has some experience with anesthetics among… other things. What have you got?"
Jokull cackles with delight. "So, you're planning to go after the careers." He chuckles again and places a chip in his mouth. "Fun."
"We're still waiting for your answer."
"Back home they call me the saboteur. You can imagine the different ways that could come in handy."
"I remember you now," the boy from Eight cuts in. "You're that motorcycle boy."
Jokull shoots his fingers in a gun pose. "Correct." He stands up from the crate and moves closer to them. "And you must be the murderer and his sidekick." He looks between them, squinting his eyes. "Ozias and Morton?"
"Ren," the Eight boy corrects Jokull in an instant.
"Ok, ok," Ozias interrupts, raising his hands. "So you're a saboteur… but you've gotta know how to fight, no man survives in Panem without knowing how to fight." He gestures to the sparring mat.
Jokull cracks his neck and places his bag of chips down. "Let's not waste any time."
They step onto the training mat together, Ozias with a dummy medium-sized sword and Jokull with two dummy pointed daggers. The prisoner from Fourteen wastes no time, swinging directly for the smaller boy's head, however, Jokull's reflexes are fast as a cat's, and he ducks under, proceeding to circle Ozias.
"So," Ozias begins. "If I'm gonna be in an alliance with someone in a death game, then I'm gonna need to know a little more about him. Why did you volunteer? What did you sabotage in Six? Why do you wanna join us?"
Jokull slips under another one of Ozias's swings. "Let's look at it another way," he begins. "Information is valuable, on the streets people pay a lot of money for that shit. So, I'd rather keep my monopoly on those answers."
Ozias grits his teeth, his charming facade is quickly disappearing, as it seems to be ineffective in getting him what he wants with Jokull.
"I always want something in return for valuable information, rather than me just telling you," Jokull finishes.
Ozias thrusts at Jokull's stomach but this time Jokull deflects the attack.
"Ok, I get it, you want more information about me, what do you wanna know?" Ozias asks.
"You killed someone, I wanna know more."
Ozias shrugs. "Unlike you, I've got nothin' to hide. I killed a very dangerous and powerful man, the leader of a crime ring in Tulrango. That good enough for you?"
Jokull snickers. "That ain't a flex. You killed a man, yes but you got caught. You only did half the job." He twirls his blades at Ozias, and Ozias parries and sidesteps all his attacks.
"Maybe I wanted to be caught," Ozias replies, becoming more disgruntled. "Anyway, sounds like you're talking from experience."
"Crime is just part of living in Six. So yeah, I'm talkin' from experience."
Jokull slides towards Ozias again but this time the boy from Fourteen is ready. He circles around with his backfoot then places the blade of his dummy sword against Jokull's neck with a smirk. "Got ya."
Jokull grins back, darting his eyes to Ozias's gut, where he has one of his dummy daggers pressed against it.
Ozias drops his smirk. "Not bad," he says, relaxing his stance. "You got some skill; I'll give you that."
Jokull follows suit and relaxes his posture, before turning to leave the sparring mat.
"Are you forgetting something? You never kept your side of the bargain," Ozias calls.
Jokull stops, shifting back to face him.
"Why did you volunteer?" Ozias presses.
"Oh, well there ain't actually that much to it. I volunteered for the hell of it. My life was pretty boring until I turned up here."
"Bullshit," Ozias snaps.
Jokull shrugs. "I never guaranteed the answers to your questions would be interesting, that was all you," he says with a victorious smile.
And as he stares into the eyes of the murderer from Fourteen, he knows that they both know that Jokull won. 1-0 to me.
"Whatever, every man reveals his secrets eventually, willingly or not," Ozias says, tossing his weapon aside.
Their conversation is then interrupted by Ren, who has been off to the side, by the weapons, working on something of his own. "If you two are quite finished, I have been working on my own little project." He lifts up a wooden staff which he has lined with hooked, metal spines. A spiteful grin lines his face.
"What's that?" Ozias asks.
"Don't play dumb with me Ozzi, I'm calling it the flayler," Ren replies, swinging it around and eyeing it up like it's their new toy that they just opened as a birthday present.
Alizka Ito, 15
It wasn't all a nightmare; Liz is really here, sitting in the Capitol, eating her breakfast at the table in her apartment. That's a fact that she's been struggling to come to terms with ever since she woke up this morning; when she opened her eyes, she half expected to find herself staring at her ceiling back in her bedroom in Eight.
She checks the clock on the wall; not long until she has to head out to training. In her hand, she clasps an old painting that she drew of a forest - one of her many adventures that she used to dream of when she was younger. Turns out, adventures are overrated.
Liz turns the drawing over to reveal an old photo of herself that was taken when she was eight. She was smiling next to Julia and Lua in her back garden, with her brother Keylor poking his head in as well; they used to love goofing around together, Liz and her brother, until she started to find him annoying. If she makes it out of here, the first thing she'll do is wrap her arms around him, and make up for all the lost time together.
Not if - when.
Liz swallows back her tears. "I'll see you guys soon, I promise," she mutters to the photo.
She intends to keep that promise.
After taking a deep breath, Liz stands up to head to training, doing her best to avoid Ren as if he has been infected with every disease on Earth.
All she has to do is treat this as another one of her adventures, all adventures have danger, Liz always loved the thrill of danger, and this one is no different.
The first thing Liz does in the training room is scan around for the girl she met yesterday - Meilin. Her mentor said that she shouldn't try to make friends, it would only make things worse, but then again, that man wouldn't know what friends were if they were staring him in the face. Liz knows all too well that true friends appear out of shared experiences, you don't just decide to make them. The conversation yesterday with Meilin was the first comfort she'd felt since this nightmare began, even if it might be a delusion as they are both going into a death game soon.
Finally, the small girl comes into Liz's view; Meilin is standing on her own, and her eyes are darting all over the place, likely doing the same as Liz.
Their eyes meet, and Meilin excitedly waves her ally over.
"Hey!" Liz greets, skipping over to her.
"Hey!"
"Sleep well?" Liz asks.
"Fantastic!"
Liz is a little taken aback by Meilin's primal enthusiasm, given the situation they are in, but the girl from Three's eyes tell no lie - she genuinely does seem like she's had a great sleep.
"What about you?" Meilin returns.
Liz gives an exaggerated yawn, and they both burst into a chuckle.
"Anyway, what was it you said yesterday about that tribute from Five?" Liz chimes.
"Yes! Just one thing first…"
"Whatsup?"
"Ok…" Meilin's large eyes sink in slight embarrassment. "I've got an idea, possibly the best idea that I've ever had, just promise not to laugh or call me crazy…"
Liz's eyes furrow with concern, preparing herself. "What is it?"
"Promise?"
"Alright, I promise… what is it?"
"Ok, so what if we convinced the other twenty-four tributes to not fight each other on the first day of the games? I know it won't be easy but if no one fights each other, then the entire games would have to be cancelled and every tribute that comes after, in the future years, will see it and the games could end forever!" Meilin is suddenly panting with a purpose, and her eyes are burning with desire. "I know it will be difficult, but it's worth a shot, surely?"
Liz sighs but takes a second to ponder this proposal. She can see in the girl from Three's eyes that she's dead serious. Meilin is extremely smart like Lua and has the passion and determination of Julia, but as much as Liz likes thinking outside the box, she knows full well that Meilin's idea is nothing more than a pipedream, a fantasy. She doesn't say that though, in the same way that Meilin is bringing Liz the delusion of comfort, this idea seems to be doing the same for Meilin, and Liz doesn't want to be the one to shoot that down.
(But at the same time, she intends to keep her promise to her family and friends, and she'll do whatever it takes, and Meilin's plan will most likely result in them both being executed by the Capitol.)
Liz places her hand under her chin. "I like your thinking but how are we supposed to convince the careers? They've trained most of their lives for this, and what about the other volunteers? They must have volunteered expecting to… ya know-"
"They will be the hardest to convince, I know, which is why we'll warm up with some of the easier ones… starting with that tribute from Five…"
"Ok," Liz winks. "Let's go."
They spot the pair from District Five in the survival station - they appear to be in the process of building a trap together, although they are sitting far apart, and not talking like there is a prison wall in between them.
Liz approaches the girl first because she is sitting closer - she is getting frustrated with one of the ropes that wraps around a piece of the trap, and flailing their arms around frantically.
Liz clears her throat. "Excuse me," she smiles.
The fair-haired tribute from Five glances up.
"I hope I'm not interrupting but I just came to say that your friend over there helped my friend at the parade and we wanted to say thank you." Liz gestures back to Meilin, who gives the girl a wave.
"He's not my friend," the tribute shoots back sharply. "It's because of them that my entire life was ruined."
"Shut up!" The boy growls.
The girl glances back at them. "No, you shut up!"
Liz awkwardly swallows, beginning to step back. "Ok, I guess we'll leave you two to it-"
"No, I'm sorry." The girl takes a deep breath, brushes her hair out her face, and gives Liz a sunny smile. "Hi, I'm Day and that…" They reluctantly point behind themself. "Is Meridian."
Meridian jolts their head up, suddenly energetic. "Meilin!"
"Meridian!" Meilin calls back.
The two of them move towards each other, but Meridian pauses, turning tomato red. "Urm…h-hi again," he stutters.
Meilin chuckles. "Hi."
Meridian begins twiddling his thumbs and tracing his foot on the floor. "I…Urm… now what?"
"We were wondering if you wanted to join our alliance!" Meilin beams.
"An alliance?" Meridian looks over to Day then back at Meilin. "My dad always told me never to trust anyone. He said that people only see each other as material gains to be exploited."
Liz catches Day rolling their eyes.
"And what does Meridian say?" Meilin retorts.
Meridian shrugs. "You seem nice. I'd like to ally with you." Their voice sounds mechanical, like the words have been programmed before they leave his mouth.
"Great!"
Liz faces Day. "And you?"
Day's eyes travel to the floor, hesitantly.
"I get that it's difficult, we're all supposed to be fighting each other in a few days and there's no way of knowing who to trust." Liz's eyes meet Meilin's briefly, oh yeah, the "plan". "Besides, you can leave at any time."
"I'm in," Day agrees with a smile. "If I'm trusting the boy that ruined my life, I don't see the big deal about trusting the two of you, as well."
"Amazing." Liz offers out her hand and Day shakes it.
The alliance then turns their attention back to the survival station. Meilin splits off with Meridian and the two of them begin an in-depth conversation, leaving Day and Liz together.
"So I got your friend's name, but I didn't catch yours?" Day says.
"Liz, pleased to meet ya."
Liz sends her a smile and Day smiles back. Together, they stop next to the trap that Day and Meridian had been building.
"So… what have you been focusing on so far in training?" Day queries.
"I was never actually that good at just learning one thing… it was always easier for me to hop between different things, I guess that's why I always failed my exams," Liz humours.
"You know, that's not a bad idea… given that we only have three days."
As Liz's gaze moves between her three new allies, something tugs at the strings of her heart - if she is going to be able to keep her promise then all three of these people will have to die, and, presumably, all three of them have family and friends of their own to go back to. That is something that haunts Liz, like the shadow of a ghost in the corner of the room that is growing ever more visible.
Fuma Marlows, 18
How could she do this to me? To our family? Fuma feels selfish for thinking it, but she can't help it. Would she have volunteered for Retha if she had been there to walk up to the stage? She likes to think so, but she can't help but wish her sister had been there to answer her name. Now her family has to suffer three tragedies in a row, and she can't even be there to comfort them. That fact is eating her up inside faster than if she'd swallowed corrosive acid.
No. She can make it out of this. Finding another ally would be a good first step, so far she only has her district partner - Robin, the red-haired lumberjack. In recent years loners and smaller alliances have tended to get picked off early in the arena by the larger alliances.
Today, she has found herself at the greenhouse where the different flora are kept; some for eating, some for healing, and some for more malicious means. Having spent a lot of time living out in the wilderness in her days as a ranger, Fuma has been able to identify most of the harmful ones but there are a few she doesn't recognize that either grow in other parts of Panem or are artificial.
Robin is becoming increasingly bored of this section, preferring to perfect his axe-craft. "Some pretty flowers ain't gonna keep me alive in the bloodbath, just put a wood-chopper in my hands," he said earlier with a smug tone.
Despite being just a dummy axe, Fuma's heart jumps at the mere sight of it; a wave of memories floods her from the day she discovered the blade of that axe sticking out of her father's head.
She attempts to shake the memories away and focus on the task at hand. Just as Fuma is inspecting a leaf in between her fingertips, she notices another tribute in the greenhouse - the small girl from Six; She's probably a few years younger than Fuma, but her eyes are deep and have a lot of maturity in them - a maturity that's likely caused by pain. That is, if life in Six is as harsh as Seven.
The girl is plucking a different assortment of plants in her hands, before examining them and crushing them into a beaker.
"What are you up to over there?" Fuma asks in a friendly but curious tone.
The girl's eyes shoot up, unsure of how to respond.
Fuma holds up her hands in surrender. "I'm just interested is all."
"Urm… it's probably easier if I just show you." The girl beckons them over.
Fuma looks back at Robin and he simply sighs. She follows the girl to where she's set her beaker up over a fire, with Robin reluctantly trailing them.
"At home, I used to spend hours in my science classroom combining different ingredients to create different chemical mixtures," the girl explains, keeping her eyes focused on her current bubbling concoction.
"So it's like alchemy?" Robin blurts.
"That's what most people call it, yeah."
"I could help!" Fuma exclaims. "I know all about different herbs that grow in Seven."
"Sure," the slight awkward girl murmurs with a meek smile.
This girl has a unique skill, after all - a skill that could come in useful to Fuma. Fuma doesn't love the idea of using people but she is in the hunger games, and she has a family to get back to. She should press to try to find out more about her, and offer her an alliance.
"Alright," Fuma smiles. "Where do we start?."
"I know one combination that could come in handy. It can help with food poisoning," the girl says, her voice seemingly picking up in enthusiasm the more she talks about alchemy.
Fuma raises her eyebrows at Robin as if to say "I told you so."
"Point me in the direction and I'll get your ingredients!" She exclaims.
With that, they begin the process. The alchemist from Six directs Fuma to get different plants to retrieve for their concoction, while Robin stands off in the corner with his arms crossed.
Having retrieved a purple stem from a tall plant with serrated leaves, Fuma skips back to the girl.
"Grind it with the pestle, please," the girl orders, not taking her eyes off the beaker.
"Right on."
Fuma begins crushing the stem into minute grains, which is harder than it looks, as it turns out. "How do you do this so fast?" She questions, wiping a patch of sweat from her forehead.
The girl shrugs with a smile. "Practice," she answers.
Fuma hands her the crushed stem.
"Thank you."
"I didn't catch your name?" Fuma asks.
"Zora… and you?"
"Fuma."
Zora then pours the crushed stem into the mixture, and a plume of steam erupts from it causing Fuma to step back and cover her eyes.
"Sorry, we're usually supposed to wear goggles when we do this," Zora laughs.
Fuma chuckles back. "It's ok."
The ranger heads off to fetch another herb and promptly returns to continue her conversation with her new potential ally.
"You're one of the other volunteers, aren't you?" Fuma presses.
This question causes Zora to freeze momentarily, but she soon goes back to diligently mixing the ingredients. "Yeah," she answers.
"May I ask why?"
At first, Zora doesn't answer; she just stares at the bubbles rising in the beaker, and Fuma worries that she might never. Did she pry too far? But then, Zora parts her lips to speak. "To protect someone I love."
Her answer hits home for Fuma hard, like a ton of bricks.
"Me too," she says but doesn't give any further clarification.
They stare at each other through the bubbling liquid for a few moments until Fuma breaks the silence. "You got any allies yet?"
"Urm… well… my district partn-"
She cuts herself off as if she let on more than she was supposed to. Then she begins rubbing the back of her neck, awkwardly. "Actually it was more of a pact than an alliance, like we're not supposed to hurt each other in the arena."
"Oh ok…"
Fuma can't deny that it sounds a little suspicious but at the same time, if she keeps this girl around and, on their side, they could potentially get each other far; definitely further than Robin would get her, anyway.
"Well… you're welcome to join our alliance and it is a proper alliance, not a pact," Fuma offers, glancing back at Robin.
Zora is hesitant at first but Fuma spots a glint of excitement shining in her eyes. "Alright, let's do it!"
"Great, we're gonna make such a good team!"
They continue working for the next ten minutes on the concoction and finally, the remedy starts to take form.
Just then, Robin lets out an exaggerated yawn. "Well, this has all been fascinating," he says sarcastically. "But I'm going to go practice on the dummies while they're free."
Fuma and Zora's gaze meet, and the two of them burst out in a chuckle.
"I think we better go with him," Fuma smiles.
For the first time since they met, Zora seems to relax. But, this sends a bitter chill through Fuma's spine. Zora is just a kid with her own family and friends, and for Fuma to live and go back to her family, then Zora will have to die, eventually. She needs to make sure Zora understands that fact, otherwise she'd feel like she was simply using her for her alchemy talent.
Brizio Nardolillo, 18
Getting the other careers to agree to let Emery join was easier than Brizio had expected, with the exception of Romulus, of course. All it took was his new status as "Leader", wit and charm - just like old times.
The careers have been sticking close to each other all day, and shifting around the different stations almost evenly. However, Romulus has been absent since lunchtime, which is fine by the new pack leader, as he can't stand Romulus's sulky glances for much longer.
But with everyone at the end of a hard day's work, most of the careers have begun messing around except for Aida - Brizio doesn't think Aida would know what fun was even if she were at a funfair with a host of dancing clowns.
Brizio has spent most of the afternoon training with this Vandermast boy. He's not Brizio's usual type, he's too insular, much like Brizio. That's why he always liked Etan, he did most of the talking for the both of them. But when Emery approached him yesterday, he just couldn't resist. A chance to get yet another tribute onboard against Romulus.
His parents and the Bonnanos always told him that people from Ten are all brawn and no brains, and while this boy is certainly broad-shouldered, he's already proved his knowledge of different foods and how to cook them. If Brizio is going to use him, and everyone else, to achieve victory and return to Tancred, then he can't afford to underestimate anyone. Divide and conquer only works if you know your enemies.
The mercenary from Four leans in closer to his new acquaintance, who is preparing to draw back an arrow on a bow. "Ok Emery, now pull the string back slowly," he whispers, his lips almost touching Emery's ear.
He places his hand on the boy from Ten's, helping him to pull the arrow back. Then, Emery releases it smugly, and it strikes the target.
"Not bad."
Brizio releases his new friend and then heads off to fetch another arrow.
Emery eyes Brizio up and down, disregarding the career's emotionless eyes. "Being as helpless as I am, I was wondering if my new handsome prince had any advice against the dog pack I seem to have found myself in?"
Brizio nods. "Everyone is either a friend or a threat, there is no middle ground. The trick is figuring out who is who before they do," he says, his eyes circle between the different careers.
"And which are you?"
Before Brizio can give one of his usual clever answers, Romulus comes striding up to the careers, red in the face, and almost seeming like an outsider at this point.
"I see you've been working hard then, as usual," the Two boy says sarcastically. "Maybe if you spent more time actually training than hanging out with that outsider, we might have an actual chance out there."
"Yeah alright, we've been training all day, we were just having some fun as a reward," Brizio retorts.
"'Yeah alright we were just having some fun"," Romulus mocks Brizio's monotone voice. "I just wanna be popular with the other careers, please love me, everyone.'" Pathetic." Then Romulus starts to storm off.
"If I'm all that then you're my twin," Brizio counters.
"Whatever… also I won that fight yesterday."
"Did not!"
With all the awkward eyes of the careers and a few of the surrounding tributes now on Brizio, he rubs his hands through his wavy hair and inhales. He can't believe he let himself stoop to Romulus's level, not even those cocky boys that he beat up on the beach broke his composure like this.
"Ok." He turns to the rest of the pack. "I think we should call it a day, training is almost over anyway."
He places the bow back on the rack and then trails Romulus out to where he's now hitting a heavy bag.
"You got a moment?" Brizio requests.
Romulus simply shrugs, wiping some sweat off his forehead with a cloth.
"What's your problem exactly?" Brizio questions.
"I don't know, you wanted to be the leader and yet you just seem to want to mess around."
"Ok but next time, if you've got a problem then just come and speak to me rather than acting like a five-year-old and creating a scene because at this rate, the other tributes will pick us apart in the arena if they see us fighting amongst ourselves like this."
Romulus's veins tighten and he looks about ready to thump Brizio across the jaw. "Ok, fine… whatever."
Brizio offers out his hand. "Can we shake on it?"
Romulus reluctantly shakes Brizio's hand, and then they gladly part company from each other.
As Brizio is wandering back to his apartment, he finds himself glad for some alone time. That is until he's met by a man in a black suit surrounded by two peacekeepers. Brizio stops dead.
"Estaban has requested an audience," the man says, gesturing to a corridor on the right.
Brizio sighs inside. You mean the friend of my blackmailer in Four.
The peacekeepers blindfold Brizio, and then he is taken to an undisclosed location and placed down on a chair. The blindfold is whipped off of the Four boy's eyes, revealing a dark oak table, and a black room lined with various screens, ancient ornaments, and maps; one of the maps is shaped more like a sphere revealing more lands beyond the usual maps - he has never seen the world portrayed like this before.
The table is occupied by a string of dark figures, cast in shadow, like specters. At the very end is a man with pale skin and black stubble on his face - Estaban. He looks almost as snarky as Romulus.
"I guess I got you to thank for my current predicament?" Brizio mutters.
"Don't think of it as a predicament, see it more as an opportunity," the politician smirks. "I'm simply a businessman, here to ensure that the world stays as a transaction, nothing more - free from any bias and sentiment." His eyes quickly dart to the map of the world.
"You got me here… to the games, what more do you want?" Brizio's words hurt him to say. He never liked others controlling his destiny - not the Bonnanos, not the Amberjacks, and certainly not the Capitol.
Brizio feels another presence behind him, but this one far more sinister. His heart swells up inside of him, and butterflies fill his stomach. He starts to twist his neck to look behind but immediately stops when Estaban orders him to "face forward."
Brizio resists the urge to spit at the man with venom.
Suddenly a deep voice cuts into the room. "You'll find that our organization takes more of a carrot, not a stick, approach."
The person behind him moves into his line of sight; he is an older man, draped in dull robes and fingers lined with diamond rings. "We can guarantee your success in the arena, you can be the one giving orders rather than receiving them, you will be free from the bonds of society, and we can give you a position on the inner-table." he says.
Brizio can't deny that the words of this mysterious man tempt him. But, he knows all too well that lies are often sugar-coated, and presented like a gift with glittering paper wrapped in a neatly tied bow.
"And what if I say no?" Brizio counters.
"Then, we can always pay Tancred a visit," Estaban shoots back.
"Alright, alright. I'll do it."
"We knew you would make the right decision." The mysterious ringed man says. "I believe that fortune will favour you and you will be rewarded."
"Ok, let's just cut to the chase," Brizio interrupts. "Who's the target?"
When Estaban presents Brizio with a photo of the target, the young man's jaw drops, a knife might as well have stung his heart. If he ever makes it out of this, then the next people he'll kill are everyone in this room; everyone that ripped him from his life back in Four.
Hello not much to say on my authors notes, we're halfway through yay! Hope I'm writing everyone well!